


Float

by Mipeltaja



Category: Tintin (Comic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:52:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mipeltaja/pseuds/Mipeltaja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a while, before things were said and done that can never be taken back, Haddock and Allan actually liked each other. For a while, it seemed like it could work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Float

It begins innocuously enough, with long nights spent together in the captain's cabin, talking. Sometimes there's a bottle. Most nights there isn't, because it's important, in those early days, to maintain a semblance of professionalism. Initially all they discuss are matters pertaining to the day-to-day running of the ship - as is only fitting of a captain and his first mate - but as they grow more comfortable around each other, their late-night chats occasionally move to more personal subjects; friends and family – or lack thereof – past mistakes both trivial and devastating, and hopes of what the future might hold. Eventually they even get to talking about things they do not usually divulge lightly. Painful memories of lost loved ones and the regrets that go with them, secrets they've carried deep within for a lifetime and, as the months go by, more. Not _everything_ is revealed, of course - there are some things even closest of friends don't need to know – but certainly enough to build a bond of a sorts. And that is where it begins.

Then again, perhaps not. The groundwork is laid in the cabin, certainly, but perhaps it doesn't truly begin until that one night ashore, when Haddock pulls Allan aside to warn him not to let his guard down around the pretty young thing who has all but glued herself to his first mate's side that evening. Haddock knows of her and tells Allan as much, tells him that she's tangled up in things anyone with any sense in their heads would want to avoid. Allan just shrugs, as if none of it matters to him, and says that there's no need to worry. He's just stringing her along for the moment, he says, and she couldn't be further from his type anyway.

Haddock doesn't have the time to decide how he feels about that, under the circumstances, before Allan leans closer and, lowering his voice, tells him he prefers them a bit _bulkier_. The breathy way he speaks the word, emphasized by his eyes flicking briefly over Haddock's form, doesn't really leave much room for misinterpretation.

Haddock very nearly shivers. 

Allan is smirking as he straightens up, confident and mischievous and possibly a little drunk to be expressing such things so openly, but he makes his way back to the girl all the same. Haddock is left alone with his flushed face and jumbled thoughts, neither of which _he_ can blame on alcohol, if only because he hasn't had any. Yet. He opts to leave in search of another bar and does not see Allan again until the Karaboudjan next sets sail.

Back on the ship, they fall back into their old routine and nothing much seems to have changed. They still have their usual meetings late at night, still do their jobs the same as ever, and somehow manage to weave the ever-mounting tension into their interaction as though it was always there. But then, perhaps it was. Haddock certainly can't seem to remember a time when his eyes – and thoughts – didn't wander when he thought Allan wasn't looking. And it occurs to him that Allan is seldom _not_ looking.

There's definitely more innuendo present now, though, and some of the looks they exchange can be downright indecent. Haddock would be lying if he said he didn't find the situation more than a little frustrating, but he cannot, _cannot_ be the one to make the first move. And as for Allan, Haddock suspects he has made it into a game of chicken on his end. And damn him, but he can't help but find the bastard just a little more attractive for it.

A few weeks later, in another pub in another port, Haddock gets himself in a fight after probably a little too much to drink and not nearly enough outlets for his irritation. It doesn't last long and ends with the other man sprawled out on the bar floor, but Haddock does not escape unscathed himself. Swaying slightly, he steadies himself against a table and waits for the sparks dancing across his vision to fade away. He can already feel his eye swelling up, and he thinks he can taste blood, although it's hard to tell for certain over the rush of adrenaline and whiskey. There's nothing wrong with his legs though, so he decides it's time to retreat back to his ship to lick his wounds.

The chill of the night air does little to assuage the boil in his blood, but it does clear his head considerably. It seems to him now that he was a lot less drunk and a lot more on edge than he thought when he'd decided to throw that first punch. Idly, he wonders about the implications of that as he makes his way to where his ship is docked.

The Karaboudjan is silent, most of her crew off having themselves a bit of a good time God alone knows where, but when Haddock reaches his cabin, he finds the door unlocked and the lights on. Unusual. He pushes the door open, ready for another fistfight if need be, and there, sitting at the captain's desk, is Allan. He stands up when Haddock enters the room, as if he's been waiting for the captain, but when he sees Haddock's face he seems to hesitate, if only for a second.

It registers somewhere in the back of Haddock's mind that the first mate isn't wearing his hat or overcoat, and his brain doesn't quite manage to figure out what to do with that information – except note that that dark sweater is quite becoming on him - before Allan strides over and grabs him by the jaw. He turns Haddock's head this way and that before pausing to inspect what Haddock is certain must be an impressive black eye by now.

”Got yourself in a bit of a scuffle, then,” he finally says. It's not a question. Nor is it an invitation to talk about it; as personable as Allan can be when he wants to, he is not the type to provide a shoulder to cry on.

”You should see the other bloke,” growls Haddock, who isn't nearly drunk enough to want to cry, anyway.

There's a flash of something almost predatory in Allan's eyes right then, as some inner barrier finally breaks under tremendous pressure. The hand on Haddock's jaw moves to the back of his head to fist in his hair, while the other one lands on his chest and pushes him against the cabin wall. Or at least _mostly_ against the wall. The steel edge of the door frame presses uncomfortably between Haddock's shoulder blades, but he cannot spare it much thought with Allan flush against him, chest-to-chest and mouth-to-mouth, and oh, he must have a split lip in addition to the black eye, because there's that metallic tang of blood again. He doesn't find it particularly difficult to ignore, though, and if Allan notices at all, he isn't deterred by it in the least.

Haddock's hands find Allan's hips, slide under the heavy wool of his sweater and tug at his undershirt to dislodge it from the man's jeans. After a bit of fumbling he succeeds, and Allan pulls back just enough to allow for both shirts to be removed in one hasty yank. Then he is back on Haddock, even fiercer than before, one hand rubbing the captain's growing erection through the front of his trousers and the other cupping the side of his face. His thumb brushes roughly over Haddock's bruised cheekbone and Haddock gasps, inexplicably aroused further by the introduction of that small amount of pain. 

So, it seems, is Allan. He pushes himself harder against Haddock for a moment, then eases up enough to get both his hands between them and on the captain's belt, which is undone with astonishing speed. He presses one hand flat against Haddock's stomach and slowly, steadily, slides it downward. His fingertips reach the waistband of the captain's underpants and stop there. The sadistic serpent! Haddock groans, unable to conceal his impatience, and pulls Allan into another kiss, hard and demanding and clear in its message.

That must be the kind of reaction Allan was waiting for, because his hand slips under and past the elastic then, and his calloused palm rubs against the underside of Haddock's cock. The captain shudders, his hips bucking of their own accord and his fingers digging into Allan's bare back – hard enough to bruise, he thinks. Allan snarls into the kiss and curls his fingers around sensitized flesh.

A sudden, loud clang from the corridor jolts them both back to reality and they spring apart like two children caught in wrongdoing. Haddock's heart very nearly stops when he realizes the door has been open the entire time, and he pushes himself off the wall to slam the door shut with the haste of a man with entirely too much to hide. They both stay completely still for a while, barely daring to breathe, and listen intently to any further sounds. There are none, however, which probably means there was nobody out there after all. Something must have just fallen over on its own, nudged by the ship's movement. Leaning against the door as if he still expects someone to come and try to force their way in, Haddock risks a glance at Allan.

If the captain's heart is racing after the interruption, the first mate seems positively spooked. He's breathing heavily and his gaze darts from place to place as if he's misplaced something important. Closing his eyes, he runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath, but it doesn't seem to do much to calm his nerves. Haddock has never, _never_ seen Allan so rattled, and he suspects it's over more than just that brief scare of being found out. Not knowing what else to do, he reaches out and touches Allan's shoulder.

Allan just bats his hand away and steps closer to kiss him once more, but it's not like before. His kiss is shaky, with a hint of something not unlike desperation - completely devoid of the raw passion that was there only seconds ago. That such a small thing could shatter a mood so completely!

Allan steps back with an irritated sigh – irritated at whom, Haddock is not sure - and quietly collects his shirts from the floor. Then, with uncharacteristic gentleness, he nudges Haddock out of the way and opens the cabin door. As he steps outside, he half turns and opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it and just leaves without a word.


End file.
